PALE RIDER was Clint Eastwood, 54 and saddled back up in the stare-and-shoot business for his first western since the great The Outlaw Josey Wales nine years earlier. Partly a riff on his image, partly an homage to a classic, this 1985 defend & revenge saga was his 10th of eleven westerns as a star, and 11th time as a director. He produced as well, for $6,900,000, and scored a win critically and commercially. The $41,411,000 domestic take ranked as the 18th most attended movie of the year. *

“And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the fourth beast said: “Come and see.” And I looked, and behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.”

The California gold mining hamlet of ‘Lahood’ is named after greedy land baron ‘Coy Lahood’ (Richard Dysart), who has his roughneck crew uses brutish bullying tactics to force a group of independent miners and their families out of ‘Carbon Canyon’, one place he hasn’t gobbled up to loot and despoil. Headed by decent, stubborn ‘Hull Barret’ (Michael Moriarty), the indies seem bound for banishment, or worse. Then a stranger rides in, laconic, helpful, but mysterious; what are those six apparent bullet hole scars on his back? Since he wears what looks to be a clerical collar, they assume he’s a preacher, something he neither pushes nor dismisses. ‘Preacher’ (Clint) is more than what he seems, and Hull’s semi-fiancee ‘Sarah Wheeler’ (Carrie Snodgress), while wary, is stirred. More directly taken is her 15-year-old daughter ‘Megan’ (Sydney Penney), in a swoon over the older man who emanates more charisma than any man around, or any that she’s ever met. Meanwhile, after the Preacher easily lays out a clutch of his thugs, Lahood calls reinforcements in the guise of corrupt lawman ‘Stockburn’ (John Russell) and his six murder-minded deputies.

Fanciers of westerns were thirsting for some old-fashioned justified homicide when this showed up: the declining genre had been gutshot by the disaster of Heaven’s Gate; examples were few & far between, with even the good ones being ignored (Cattle Annie and Little Britches, Barbarosa) or, like the superb The Long Riders, under-performing. I recall being disappointed with this when first seeing it in a theater, but catching up again—forty years later, on a laptop in a hostel in Cartagena, Colombia (waiting for a possible idiotic/insane ‘freedom’ bombardment to commence)—we hereby change the tune to one of belated appreciation.

While not the firepower caliber of the epic The Outlaw Josey Wales, or outfitted with showy star turns like Unforgiven, this is head-over-stirrups better than Clint’s other daub at macabre, the cheerlessly nasty High Plains Drifter. There was no-one to like in that Visitor from Hell ordeal; you do care for the people in this story, and Eastwood’s ghostly savior/avenger isn’t merely a scowling cut-out, but is drawn with subtlety, assurance and easy charm. Since his opener ax-handle fight with Lahood’s goons is over-the-top—cathartic but unreal—we relax into the surreal territory aspect of the interpretation, the Stranger’s coolness literally supernatural. Accepting that, at the same we’re fully impressed by the honesty of the work from the offbeat Moriarty and Snodgress, and the surprising feature debut from Penney (she was just 13), who’d been a successful child actress on TV. A bonus for the elders: it’s neat to see old pro John Russell, 63, still flinty.

Partially an homage to Shane, this is the best screenplay done by Michael Butler and Dennis Shryack, who teamed several times (The Gauntlet, Code Of Silence, the underrated Flashpoint). They do sneak in a line that may have clicked with Clint’s general political lean: “Sacramento ain’t worth moose piss.”

116 minutes, shot in Idaho and California and featuring Chris Penn, Doug McGrath (he gets the Elisha Cook treatment), Richard Kiel (who does a surprise & welcome turnabout) Charles Hallahan, Richard Hamilton, Fran Ryan and Billy Drago.

* We don’t count his bit parts in two minor 50s items, Star In The Dust and Ambush In Tomahawk Gap, the Civil War thriller The Beguiled, nor the modern ‘westerner at large’ entries Coogan’s Bluff, Bronco Billy and A Perfect World—a squint, a stetson and a sixgun doesn’t make you a cowpoke. Just someone to either heed or avoid.

“We all have it comin’ kid.”  In shootin’ gallery order: A Fistful Of Dollars, For A Few Dollars More, The Good the Bad and the Ugly, Hang ‘Em High, Paint Your Wagon, Two Mules For Sister Sara, Joe Kidd, High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Pale Rider, Unforgiven.

Though 1985 expectorated two limp comedy sendups, Rustler’s Rhapsody and Lust In The Dust, the only real genre competition that year came from bigger, costlier, much more exuberant Silverado, which trailed at 27th: we really like that one.